


siblings, probably

by Scarlet66



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: (i mean as much of those things there can be when kanda's involved but yeah), Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Pre-Canon, aka in which kanda isn't as much of an ass as he wishes he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet66/pseuds/Scarlet66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanda and Lenalee grow up together.</p><p>A series of short stories in roughly chronological order. Rated T for Kanda's mouth and canon-typical violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which they meet

 

There's a girl following him.

There's a girl following him, and it's creepy as hell. It's like Alma all over again, and that's a giant can of scorpions he doesn't want to touch with a ten meter stick. But he's tried the cafeteria, the library, the kitchen, every training room and darkened hallway and nook and cranny in this godforsaken place and somehow she's still hot on his heels. It's in front of his room where Kanda finally stops and reevaluates. 

He's an entire head taller than this girl, and he is most definitely stronger and faster and far more resilient. He has a _sword._  Why is he running?

The last time he stopped running from some kid trying to be his friend it ended in bloodshed and far more pain than his cursed body knew how to heal.

And that's a rabbit hole he'd much, much rather not dive into, so instead he turns sharply and snarls, "Stop fucking following me!"

The girl behind the corner gasps and tries to hide, except the ends of her long hair are still visible. Kanda has a sweaty hand on Mugen's hilt when she steps out, hands twisted in the fabric of her dirty gray dress. There's a scrunched up look that barely passes for determination on her face. 

"I'm — I'm Lenalee!" she gasps in Chinese. She talks like she can't breathe. "I'm eight years old! I'm sorry I mistook you for a girl when we first met!" 

Kanda didn't think his mood could actually get any worse. He's about to tell her to fuck off and find some other poor asshole to stalk, until he sees the bruises and bloodstains on her wrists and ankles where her dress doesn't cover her skin. Shackles, probably. Her left cheek is slightly swollen and there are tear tracks all over her face. Her eyes are a mirror reflection of his. 

Everyone knows about the girl who refuses to become an Accommodator. Kanda, above all, knows how futile that is.

His rage settles grudgingly. He has no desire to be an ass to someone who's only looking for company after suffering the same kind of bullshit he had.

But Kanda doesn't make good company, and he's an ass by nature.

"Leave me the hell alone," he says. He opens his door and slams it behind him. He hopes the sound of the lock snapping into place is loud enough for her to hear.

 

 

Her feet are blistered and bleeding and her knees and elbows sting, but she keeps running. Tears are mottling her vision, her lungs are burning, and sweat is gluing the hair on the top of her head to her scalp. She feels like she's about to faint just from the fear pressing down on her from every direction. But she keeps running, and running, and running, because anywhere is better than that room. 

There are monsters in that room, and they're far, far worse than the shadows Lenalee used to conjure on her walls at night. Shadows are just shadows.

Humans are real. 

It doesn't matter how soothing the Head Nurse's voice is when there are needles in her arms and metal around her limbs. There is no safe haven. This isn't her home. 

She's tried many times to run. Every time she's dragged back, tied up by magic paper, she's rewarded with an extra bruise. 

She misses Komui. She wants him here, with her, soothing her hair. She wants him to hold her hand and tell her it's alright, everything will be fine, and she won't have to hurt anymore. She wants him to read her stories like he used to. She won't even complain if they're scary this time! If she can see him, even just one more time, she'll never complain about anything ever again.

She misses him and it hurts and hurts and hurts. 

Eventually she pauses to catch a much-needed breath, long enough to realize where she is and briefly enough to prevent second thoughts. Kanda is scary, and this time he might actually use his sword, but he's nowhere near as scary as the men in cloaks. 

She pounds on his door, and desperation is the only thing that gives her enough strength to sob out a "Please" between two laboured breaths.

The door opens and a hand reaches out to yank her in.

 

 

For a second, she sounded almost like Alma.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake,_ Kanda thinks venomously before his head can catch up to his body. 

He closes his door as quietly as he can. After a while he can hear the light footsteps indicative of trained guards, and the rustling of long cloaks flapping with movement. The sounds grow fainter and he sticks his head out in time to see a Crow turning the corner. He smirks, viciously. 

Serves them right.

He closes the door again and turns around, his good mood fading. There's a nuisance sitting on his floor where he'd dumped her, and he is very much inclined to tell her to get out after she catches her breath and stops crying. The bad news is that doesn't seem to be happening any time soon, and even worse is that she's trying to talk to him at the same time. If Kanda has learned anything from Alma, it's that trying to say things while simultaneously sobbing only makes you cry harder.

He could probably help her run, if he wants to. Unlike him she hasn't formed a bond with her Innocence yet. And part of him _does_ want to — but not for the girl's sake. He'd do anything to spit in the Order's face. It's not like they can do anything to him that they haven't already.

The other part of him knows there's nowhere for her to run to. They'll just drag her back screaming. 

He mutters angrily under his breath and strides over to the girl, grabs a corner of his blanket from his bed and scrubs her face with it, ignoring her startled gasp.

"Stop crying," he hisses. "Stop crying, and then get out of my room."

"I'b — I'm — sorry — I —" she blubbers. "I'm sorr — y if I — woke you up."

Kanda hadn't been sleeping. Nightmares are a real bitch. 

He doesn't say that out loud, instead opting to quickly check her over. Her nightgown only reaches down to her knees and now that he's had a chance to actually look at her, he can see that there's blood on her forearms, knees and the bottom of her feet, from running and tripping probably all night long.

He makes an irritated noise. The only place he'll find antiseptics and bandages is the infirmary, and he'd really prefer to stay the fuck away from there. 

"Stay here and don't make a sound," Kanda warns, before slipping noiselessly out into the hall. 

The sooner he fixes her up, the sooner she removes herself from his life. 

 

 

Lenalee doesn't quite have the strength to worry about propriety at the moment, and the floor is hard and cold. She winces as she pulls herself to her knees and climbs onto Kanda's bed, careful to avoid getting bloodstains on his bedsheets. She could almost pass out right there, but then her hand brushes his pillow. It's damp. 

She tries to remember if his eyes had been red, but it's dark, and she wasn't exactly paying attention. She decides not to mention it, because she feels if she does he'd never let her in here again. That's the last thing she wants. 

Nobody here has a happy story, do they.

She tries her hardest not to let her head droop, but Kanda's bed is... warm... and inviting. It's the second time, after the Head Nurse, since she was brought here that the presence of another human being is anything other than terrifying. And this is the first time she isn't afraid to fall asleep in a strange bed. 

Kanda is intimidating, but as long as that anger isn't directed at her... as long as they both hate this place, he might even protect her.

She's selfish, she knows. Kanda has no obligation to do that for her. She has no right to use him as a shield, especially not when she suspects he's been hurt too. 

No. No, she's exhausted and she doesn't want to think about this. She's tired of running, of being scared... she just wants a moment to rest in a warm, comfortable place... where she doesn't have to think about Innocence... or monsters...

"Hey."

Lenalee startles awake to Kanda glaring down at her. She hadn't even known she'd been laying down.  

"S — sorry, I —"

Kanda huffs irritably and plops down onto his bed in front of her. She notices for the first time that he's carrying things when he drops the objects between them — rolls of bandages, towels, and two bottles of liquid. 

"Give me your legs," he commands, visibly annoyed.

 

 

Kanda is absolute garbage at wrapping bandages. Most of his wounds don't last long enough to warrant them.

Lenalee looks down at his shoddy handiwork around her arms, legs, and feet for a few moments, and then giggles. And thanks him.

What the fuck.

Kanda begins to wonder whether or not he should have inspected her head too, when his door is kicked in and four Crows swarm the place. Kanda dives for Mugen leaning against the nightstand, but he isn't fast enough to draw it before one of them gets two fingers to his neck. 

"Cease this immediately," he demands. "Lenalee Lee is to come with us."

"No —" Lenalee begs breathlessly. "Please —"

They cover her mouth and bind her legs, and Kanda helplessly watches as the girl is dragged from his room, bandages coming loose and trailing behind her.

 

 

The next time Lenalee is allowed out of the room, her throat is sore. Being forced to scream apologies to monsters who won't listen to a word you say will do that to you.

She finds herself standing in front of Kanda's room. Her bandages are properly wrapped, tight and secure. She wants to tear them all off. 

She tries the doorknob.

This time, it's unlocked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kanda is probably less of a potty mouth than i depict here, but i am a potty mouth irl so i guess my personality just kinda rubbed off here?? oops


	2. in which thank you's and sorry's are equally worthless

 

Lenalee isn't very good at meditating. She can't sit still. Every minute or so, she'll shuffle in place, or rearrange her legs, or cough or sneeze or sigh or tear up or any number of things. Sometimes, god forbid, she starts crying. 

Kanda isn't equipped to deal with crying girls. 

He begins keeping handkerchiefs and towels around to toss at her when that happens. Beyond that, he has no idea what to do — the one time he decided it'd be a good idea to open his big mouth he told her crying made her even uglier than usual so she should quit it already, which she responded to by punching him in the arm and crying even harder, so. He does nothing. He sits there and fumes as she gets herself under control. 

"Stop thinking, idiot," he tells her. "You're not supposed to think when you're meditating."

She gets better at it, eventually. She starts being able to maintain focus without falling asleep for longer periods of time.

All in all, he's putting in quite a bit of effort for something he's only doing to piss the Order off. Kanda enjoys a certain reputation at Headquarters. They know exactly where Lenalee is; they just don't want to come here to get her. It's extremely satisfying in a petty sort of way. 

He tries to avoid thinking about how far he'd be willing to go, on the off chance that one day someone actually marches in. 

After about eight months the frequency of Lenalee's visits begin to decrease. Kanda would be grateful but even he isn't that much of an asshat. He knows her absences aren't her own doing. He also knows, having met the man himself, that Lvellie is a poisonous son of a bitch who in all likelihood gets off on overseeing the torture of young children. 

By month eleven she only comes once every two weeks.

It isn't worth it, he tells himself. Getting involved. He only has one goal now, and he doesn't want to get sidetracked. 

It isn't worth it. 

But it doesn't stop him from leaving his door unlocked, it doesn't stop him from glaring bloody violent murder at Lvellie when Kanda is suddenly shunted off to a six month long mission with Tiedoll and Marie, and it _sure as hell_ doesn't stop him from throwing three Crows into the wall when he gets back and hears that Lenalee has been locked up with no visitors allowed. 

It's their fault. They're the ones who touched him when all he did was ask them what the fuck they thought they were doing. Someone should've told them that was a stupid shit idea.

So really, he's just venting. Lenalee is an excuse; he has ample reason for hating Central, and Crows have certainly never done him any favours. He's about to go for number four, but then Tiedoll and Marie, being nonstop pains in his ass, get in the way and haul him off.

And then three and a half months later, Komui arrives.

 

 

Lenalee doesn't remember the last time she felt like this: clamping her hands to her mouth in an attempt to swallow the peals of laughter bubbling up from her chest. 

Komui used to make a habit of ruthlessly interrogating every boy around her age who ever looked in her general direction about their intentions with her. Needless to say, she found it obnoxious and embarrassing. She didn't imagine she'd miss it this much. 

But — to think — that one day it would be Kanda — _Kanda,_ of all people — on the receiving end of that question —

Before now she wouldn't have thought his face could twist that way. He doesn't even look angry. Just — helplessly confused and. Maybe a little scared.

The dam bursts, eventually, as she rolls over on the couch and breaks into helpless bouts of stomach-cradling laughter. 

 

 

"Jokes aside, it is nice to meet you, Kanda."

Huh. It seems the new Section Leader of the Science Division isn't a total idiot after all. Komui's smile now is sober.

Lenalee went for training minutes ago after laughing up a storm. Kanda's discomfort was evidently hysterical to her, or something. After that Komui wanted to have a private talk, and apparently that was enough reason to warrant breaking and entering into his boss' office. Kanda might actually begin to like this guy.

Especially considering that the moron willingly jumped into hell just to be with his sister. The man is annoying as fuck, but that, at the very least, is something Kanda could respect.

After they settle down, Kanda on the couch and Komui leaning against the desk, the latter says, "I'm grateful to you. I heard what you did for my sister." And then he bows.

What the _fuck_? Kanda almost physically flinches. Gratitude. Again. For what? Why are these siblings so weird, he wonders. 

Komui catches the look on Kanda's face and laughs as he straightens. "That being said, I believe I owe it to you to be truthful." He takes a breath, looks Kanda in the eye, and the smile disappears completely. "As the chief of the European branch's Science Division, I have been informed of the details of the Second Exorcist Project."

Kanda stiffens.

The older man continues as if he doesn't notice despite maintaining eye contact. "I know about your... condition, and I will do everything in my power to support you. I know that my apologies could never make up for what the Order did, and what was done to you. Even so," Komui kneels down, places his hands on the floor and lowers his head until his forehead touches his fingers, "I am truly sorry."

Kanda carefully clenches his hands into fists hard enough for his nails to draw blood, keeping them away from Mugen. Lenalee wouldn't appreciate it if he lops off her brother's head. 

"You're right," Kanda growls. He gets to his feet, grabs Mugen where it leans against the armrest, and all but sprints for the door.

If this bastard thinks that  _apologizing_ at this point — after all this, after _Alma_ — would do anything for him, for either of them — would matter — would _change anything_  —

Why is it _him_? Why is he the one sticking his neck out as if he's waiting for his head to fall, the one grovelling on the ground when _he_ wasn't the piece of shit in charge —

"I will do anything and everything in my power to ensure something like that never happens again under my supervision," Komui shouts after him. "I swear it on my life."

Kanda only falters for a split second, before slamming the door behind him.

He looks down at his hands and barks out a laugh. The little crescent-shaped markings in his palms are already fading.

 


	3. in which things like names are important

 

Lenalee is eleven when she gets her first mission with Kanda and Marie. 

"Let me borrow that," Kanda says, pointing at her head. 

"You say borrow, but you never return them." Lenalee raises an eyebrow at him.

"Not my fault hair ties always snap."

"Get your own."

"Yes, because obviously they sell that shit in the middle of the Canadian arctic."

"Now, now, children," Marie chides. "Be quiet or I won't be able to hear."

Lenalee sighs, swallowing a retort and reaching into her bag. She has to be the mature one here, she reminds herself. 

Only her first mission with Kanda and already they're like this. Frankly, she blames him. He was fine when it was just cold, but after the wind started picking up he's been even crankier than usual. Lenalee is fairly sure it's because it messes up his hair. No one messes with Kanda's hair.

"Just had to choose the worst fucking place to hide, didn't it," he mutters as he puts up his hair.

Lenalee is inclined to agree. They've retrieved the Innocence already, but the journey back to town is no less terrible. They've suffered several ambushes from Level Ones. Visibility is low because of the snowstorm so they barely know where they're going, and if it weren't for Marie and the Finders they'd be lost and blind. 

Lenalee grips her coat a little tighter and pulls it closer to herself, resisting the urge to sigh. It's only been a day since she last talked to Komui, and she misses him already. A familiar clawing sensation clutches at her stomach and makes her nauseous. She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. Focus on the mission. Komui will be there when she gets back. He'll be there. He won't leave. He won't.

Now, what had he been complaining about? Right, the terrible coffee. Reever isn't very good at making coffee. On the phone Lenalee promised her brother she would ask Jeryy to teach her when she returned. Back to the Order. Back home...

Marie's voice snaps her out of her reverie. "Ten o'clock!"

Kanda and Lenalee both immediately jump away in separate directions, smoothly avoiding a barrage of akuma bullets. Lenalee quickly surveys the enemies she can see just as she was taught to: all Level Ones, thankfully. They invoke their weapons while Marie takes a defensive stance in front of the Finders. 

"Lena!" Kanda yells. His gaze is hovering at a spot behind and above her head.

Lenalee bends her legs, then springs — bullets pulverize the ground she was standing on while she flies up and up, until the akuma are tiny black orbs against a white background. She panics for a second; too high, again. She can already hear General Yeegar reprimanding her lack of control. 

But the one good thing about the Dark Boots, in Lenalee's opinion, is that they allow her to master the skies. 

Just as she begins to fall she feels the way the soles of her feet push against the air, even as the wind shifts violently around her; she imagines a surface made of near-untouchable particles, and wills her boots to find it, cling to it, just for a fraction of a second. And with that she pushes off, straight towards the earth, and reorients herself in midair so she tears right through the middle of an akuma's body. The impact she makes as she crashes into the ground — she takes care to keep her legs below her, to bend them at precisely the right moment to absorb the force of the collision — blasts rocky shrapnel into the air.

Her heart pumps blood through her veins at a vigorous rhythm. The sound of it beats against her ears and quickens her breath and sharpens her vision. Even if she dislikes her job, this war, and the menacing form of the akuma still gives her nightmares, she can't hate the exhilaration of the adrenaline rush — the sheer freedom — her boots give her.

As she jumps to her next target, she hears the resonating melody of Noel Organon intermingling with the screeching of Mugen's underworld insects, followed by a symphony of inhuman screams. The fight is over in minutes. 

She confirms that the Innocence is still safe with Marie, and that the Finders are unharmed. They continue their trek back to civilization before Lenalee turns to Kanda. "What did you call me?"

He blinks at her. "What?"

"What did you call me, right after that first attack."

She can pinpoint the exact moment where the realization that he's made a terrible, terrible mistake dawns on his face. He turns away, mutters what Lenalee is almost certain is a curse, and looks like he regrets ever being born.

Marie snickers behind them. Lenalee's mouth stretches slowly into a wide, obnoxious smile.

"Shut up," Kanda snaps without feeling, still not looking at her.

"I haven't said anything!"

"Shut up, your name is a mouthful to say."

"It really isn't —"

Kanda's — Lenalee's, technically — hair tie chooses that exact moment to snap, and Lenalee cries out in dismay.

"Children," Marie says. "Please."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -he calls her lena sometimes like can you fuCKIING BELIEVE THE BOY WON'T EVEN USE ALLEN OR LAVI'S REAL NAME MOST OF THE TIME AND YET
> 
> -he also steals her hair ties. for real. like. wh


	4. in which fighting solves everything, always

 

The air in Headquarters warmed after Komui arrived and Lena was released from her prison — a direct result of Komui's personality. The effect only strengthened after he was promoted to Branch Head. Aside from all the stupid shit he pulls in the name of either science or his sister, people love him. Some even start calling the place Home. 

Kanda doesn't want it. He's already seen this. He knows how it ends. He builds a wall and maintains it with utmost care. 

Apathy is so much easier. Speak only when spoken to. Don't offer anything you don't owe.

And it's apparent that, for Lena, no amount of over-the-top brotherly love or sympathetic words or friendly pats on the head can erase four years of trauma or the fear of an impending lifetime of violence. The bags underneath her eyes and the strained smiles she wears when someone asks if she's alright can testify to that. 

After Kanda almost plows her over when she runs into him in the hallway, he suggests that she visit Marie. She blinks at him blearily like he's speaking Italian, or something.

"Get him to play you a lullaby. He's good at that," he explains. He makes a beeline for his room before she can reply.

Nightmares suck all kinds of ass. Kanda understands that. Not because they dredge up every hideous memory he'd rather bury for the rest of forever.

Alma has something he wants to test that morning — some sort of new move. He tells Kanda to  _get ready to see something amazing, Yuu!!_ before backflipping ten meters into the air only to promptly smash his head into the wall behind him with a startled yelp. Yuu has never laughed so hard in the three months he's known Alma despite all the idiotic stunts the other boy comes up with on a regular basis. Seriously, what a moron.

Kanda wakes up gasping and choking for breath.

This. This is the problem with nightmares. 

Kanda can deal with trauma. Trauma is normal. He can deal with the kind of pain that makes him cough blood and lacerates his flesh, with suffocating, endless darkness completely devoid of warmth, with the undeniable reality that he is less than human.

He can handle slicing into Alma's flesh dozens and hundreds of times, his vision blurring more and more with every slash, each strike weaker and more desperate than the last as the realization sets in that they really, truly are monsters. He can put up with standing over his best friend's body, covered head to toe in his blood, after the other boy's regeneration finally, finally, finally wears off, and screaming until his throat bleeds. He can cope with the stench that clings to every part of his skin for weeks and months afterwards, making him retch as the putrid smell sits in his nostrils and refuses to leave. He can take the guilt that rips him apart every time he's alone with his thoughts.

What he can't stand are these: Alma's obsession with mayonnaise, to the point where he used to fucking drink it straight from the bottle. The way Doctor Edgar affectionately mussed Kanda's hair. The candies Renny occasionally snuck to them behind her father's back. The rare smile the Branch Head sometimes directed their way when she thought they weren't looking.

What breaks him is Alma's arm, and sometimes leg, stretched out in the space between their beds at night like he was letting Kanda know he was always just a few centimeters away; and the comfort of his hand on Kanda's hand every time he dragged him out to play; and his smile every morning after he woke up as if they had something to be grateful for.

What completely unravels him are the tiny, tiny gestures that used to remind him that even artificial soldiers were allowed to exist. The memories that kept him warm, kept him sane, that he wants to hold on to against his better judgment.

Apathy is easy. Far easier than hatred, because hatred consumes. Far easier than grief, because grief is heavy. Grief crushes.

Far easier than nostalgia, because nostalgia takes you prisoner and never lets you go. 

Kanda presses the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to hurt and chokes back a sob through sheer force of will. Not again. Not this time. 

He's had enough. In a brief instant of overpowering despair he wonders if he should ask Komui if there's any way to induce permanent brain damage.

He almost laughs. Of course not. Alma bashed his head into that wall hard enough to crack his damn skull, and the injury was already healing by the time he fell back to the floor. Not a single memory out of place.

Kanda bites his lip viciously enough to taste blood to force his breathing back to normal. After a few minutes pass his heart rate slows and dulls. He lets his arms down with a shudder, blinks the fuzziness out of his vision, and turns onto his side to face his room.

Mistake.

He turns into Lena's eyes, wide and frightened and staring back at him. She's sitting up on the floor where some hours ago he said she could stay for the night, clutching her blanket around her to her chest, her hair loose and wild around her. 

She knocked on his door at midnight. Sleep wouldn't come, and Komui already crashed in his office. She didn't want to disturb him. Everyone else in this place adores her and showers her with affection, and she chose to come to the one person who doesn't. 

Kanda was too tired to argue. He let his guard down, let her in. 

She saw something no one but Tiedoll and Marie and Daisya have seen, and those times weren't even by choice. If she was anyone else he would kill her right here, just out of principle. 

He's still internally scrambling for a response other than murder, muscles rigidly locked in place, when Lena speaks up. 

"I'm going to the training room," she declares, standing up. Her voice, soft but firm, fills the cold silence around them and between them. She gathers up her blanket and pillow in her stick-thin arms and marches to the door. She throws a brief glance over her shoulder at him, before heading out and leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

After a few moments Kanda gets up, pulls on a shirt and follows with Mugen in hand, not bothering to take a hair tie with him.

The hallways are chilly as fuck, as usual, and the training room closest to Kanda's room — the one he usually frequents — is even more so. Lena drops the blanket and pillow by the wall and activates her boots. Kanda unsheathes Mugen and kicks his slippers out of the way, his toes reflexively clenching in response to the icy floor. They don't usually use their Innocence for sparring sessions; Komui would bust a vein. Kanda almost smiles at the thought of it.

Reever's the one who finds them the next morning, huddled together against the wall under a single blanket with Lena's pillow stuffed underneath their heads.

The scientist takes one look at the room and wails. "Wha — what happened?! Why are there — cracks in the... and holes in the... Kanda! Lenalee! Please don't tell me you used your Innocence in here!"

Kanda groans and rubs his eyes. He winces as he shifts his body; how the hell is he _sore_? Lena stirs and yawns beside him, and he notices with more than a little disgust that she drooled on his shoulder.

And then he notices that she's been sleeping close enough to him to get spit on him. Close enough for him to see the bruises he gave her when he punched her on her cheek. A reflexive jerk of his head and the pulling at his scalp that follows alerts him that somehow their hair has tangled together into a giant, inseparable mess.

Lena tightens her grasp on his sleeve, apparently completely ignorant of the fact that Kanda almost just tore their hair out of their heads. She snuggles closer and begins to nod off again as Reever says — something. Kanda isn't listening. He's somehow still exhausted from stupid dreams and fighting Lena and breaking the room in the process, and he's just. Not in the mood to get up, or move away from what should be an extremely uncomfortable situation for him. To hell with Reever. 

To hell with  _Komui_ , he thinks, perhaps a bit suicidally, as he closes his eyes.

It's warm here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> komui continues to be a persistent presence in this story despite not even being there and i think that says a lot about his character


	5. in which only asshats say no to chocolate cake

 

The Head Nurse will have you know that healing is a long, arduous process. Open wounds must be thoroughly disinfected before they're dressed, and the bandages themselves must be changed regularly — sometimes even several times a day. You must take care to disturb the injured area as little as possible until the pain fades. But human bodies are, at their core, fragile; get thrown into a wall the wrong way and your spine may never be the same again. 

Emotional burdens are pretty much the same. Bend too far and too often and you break. 

Staying with the Order is like repeatedly reopening the wound. Every inch of Headquarters — even if she's no longer kept under lock and key, even if she's no longer running down its halls to look for an escape — is a fresh reminder that _there's nowhere to run, Lenalee, nowhere, nowhere, nowhere._ The most she can do is apply pressure and hope it doesn't drain her. 

Komui helps, a lot. Having him here makes almost anything worth it, even when mechanical demons stalk her dreams. Even when she's throwing up her breakfast in the training room. Her first encounter with the Science Division isn't as horrible as she would have thought, either. They smile at her and gently shake her hand and ruffle her hair, and all of a sudden it kind of feels like she's been adopted by a hoard of older brothers. 

When Komui is promoted to Branch Head the first executive order he issues is a birthday party — February 20th — for his sister when she turns eleven. Shiny ribbons and banners that say  _Happy Birthday My Dear Sweet Beautiful Lenalee_ cover the dining room walls and tables are covered in brand new white satin tablecloths. There's a band playing merrily in the corner. Lenalee drowns in colourful dresses and hair accessories and jewellery, and Jeryy churns out a feast fit for kings and bakes her a chocolate cake taller than she is. 

It's expensive and wholly unnecessary and the entire thing is a horrendous chore to clean up. A messenger from Central comes by a week later to yell at Komui for _wasting precious time and resources_ and to forbid him from doing anything _so utterly juvenile during a time of war_  again. But everyone just snickers and winks at her after the man leaves and Lenalee has never felt so loved.  

Headquarters is still too cold to be home, but Lenalee finds that family makes it much, much warmer.

Kanda misses her birthday that year, choosing instead to hole himself up in his room. Lenalee is a little hurt, because even after she knocks on his door with a piece of cake he just tells her to leave.

"I hate sweet things and loud places and annoying people," he grumbles. He wrinkles his nose at the plate in her hand before shutting the door in her face.

Lenalee pouts, hesitant to annoy him but badly wanting her first friend to be there with her. "Please?" she tries again.

"No."

And that's that.

She refuses to let him deter her good mood. She does end up holding a little grudge against him, though, which he takes advantage of in order to distance himself even more. That makes her even angrier, and by the time she comes around to grudgingly realizing that that's just how Kanda _is_ , that he's never going to change for her and he'll only get further and further away if she doesn't take the initiative, she hasn't talked to him for months. The next time they have a civil conversation is when they meet up before departing for Canada in August.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing Lenalee says when he sees her approaching him and Marie in the dark hallways. She flinches a little at his gaze and turns her eyes to her feet. "For not talking to you for so long."

Kanda tilts an eyebrow before shrugging and looking away. Marie elbows him in the shoulder but the boy just grunts and turns away harder.

Marie sighs. "Sorry, Lenalee. Don't worry about it. It isn't your fault Kanda is emotionally constipated."

Kanda whips around at him, incredulous. "I'm not!" he yells.

"Consti — what?" Lenalee tilts her head in confusion. She isn't completely proficient in English yet.

"Nothing," Kanda snaps.

Lenalee stares at him for a bit. That's the Kanda she knows. She grins to herself and takes it as a sign of a successful reconciliation.

After the mission she discreetly interrogates Marie about Kanda's birthday — June 6th, and Lenalee is disappointed that she missed it while she was mad at him — and his likes and dislikes. Her findings: Kanda hates pretty much everything but soba, training, meditating and being alone. And maybe gardening. And dogs. 

Birthdays are easy to miss with their constant need for travel, and everyone is almost always so busy that dates fly right over their heads. Birthday presents aren't given very often — Lenalee's party was a happy anomaly. She and Kanda miss each other's birthdays again next year, out of necessity this time, but it doesn't stop her from leaving a pack of hair ties in his room when she returns in early July. 

It's meant to discourage him from breaking into her room and stealing hers. It doesn't work for very long. 

 

 

"So," Daisya starts, voice lifting above the lively hum of the streets.

"No," Kanda replies.

The other boy huffs, offended, as he somehow juggles his Charity Bell from knee to ankle while walking. "I haven't even said anything yet, pretty boy."

Kanda growls a little at the nickname. "I already know it's going to be something stupid. What's the point?"

"It's about Lena's birthday. Ain't it comin' up soon?"

Kanda finally looks at him, turning his gaze away from the bustle of the crowd. He keeps a vigilant ear on the people around them, picking up snippets of conversations in Chinese, even as Daisya claims his attention. "What about it?"

"You gonna give her somethin'?"

"Why would I?"

"That's cold, man. Ain't you two friends?"

"We're not."

Daisya scoffs. "Right. Like you and Marie ain't friends. Like you and I ain't —"

"We're not friends, you dick."

Daisya gapes, clutching his chest and dropping his Charity Bell in theatrical shock. Kanda hopes it rolls away into the crowd. "You wound me, asshat."

Kanda quickens his pace, halfheartedly wishing the annoying boy would fall behind. All he really needs for the mission is the Finder anyway, and, thank fuck,  _he_ isn't trying to make small talk with him.

To his utter dismay, Daisya almost immediately pops up again behind him, Charity Bell in hand. "Seriously, though. It wouldn't even be that hard to find her a present. This is her home country ain't it? These streets are literally lined with merchants."

He's right; they're smack in the middle of the marketplace. Lanterns light up the streets as night begins to fall, and with it comes the less savoury parts of humanity. Which is why Kanda wants to leave. Now. It wouldn't be funny if akuma were to appear in the middle of a crowd like this.

It would be less funny if the aforementioned parts of humanity come anywhere near him. It's happened before. Kanda knows it's less about Lena, and more about Daisya wanting to stick around to see something he deems interesting happen. 

"If you want to give her something," Kanda says, "find it yourself. After we finish here."

Daisya sticks his tongue out at him like the immature little kid he is. 

 

 

"Lenalee!" Johnny hollers. "Package for you!"

Lenalee turns and sets down the tray of empty coffee mugs onto Johnny's desk as he hobbles over to her and holds out a wooden box. "For me?"

"Yep." Johnny grins. "From Daisya and Kanda."

She blinks and takes the box from him, inspecting it as she puts it down beside the tray. Its base is about the size of both her hands placed side by side. There's a  _To Lena_  and  _From Daisya and the pretty boy_ written in Daisya's messy scrawl in ink down the side of it. 

Someone laughs in her ear, and she turns around to see that a crowd has gathered around her. "What's in it?" Tapp asks curiously.

Lenalee works at the latch, flipping it open, and pushes the lid back. The interior of the box is lined with deep blue velvet. There's a wrinkled piece of paper hanging onto the inside of the lid, folded unevenly and covered by words written in the same sloppy handwriting. At the centre, fastened in place by strings attached to the velvet, is a comb.

Like the box it's made of wood, but it's a darker, richer brown in colour and much smoother to the touch. It's shaped in a half-circle, with super fine teeth lining the flat edge. Intricate carvings of tiny flowers and vines loop their way along the circular edge towards the middle, where an eight-petaled lotus flower sits. 

Lenalee holds her breath and gently slides the comb out, tracing the carvings and feeling the grooves beneath her fingertips. She feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes. 

"Damn," Reever breathes.

"That looks expensive," Johnny adds.

Lenalee laughs a little, wiping at her eyes. "It's a traditional Chinese comb. I didn't think —" she sniffs — "Komui used to brush my hair with one of these. I didn't think I'd see one again."

Someone puts a hand on her head and strokes her hair. She leans into the touch as she carefully puts the comb back into the box and reaches for the piece of paper and opens it. Everyone leans in closer to get a better look. 

 

_Hey, squirt_

_Sorry we can't be there for your birthday. Pain in the neck mission just got a little longer, because holy crap China is infested with akuma. Actually. Goddamn what a mess._

_Anyway, funny story. We were walking through the marketplace one day on our way out of town when out of ass knows where these two level ones pop up. Me and Kanda took care of them no problem but as you can probably guess panic ensued. Apparently one of the bullets was pretty close to hitting this guy's stand, and Kanda jumped in the way, or something, and saved the guy and his cute daughter's lives in the process._

_You should have seen how smitten she was with him!! I'm like ninety eight percent sure she was about to propose, it was funny as hell. I got a black eye for laughing, but it was worth it. You should've seen his pretty face, Lena, I didn't know it could even stretch that way._

_So anyway the guy said he wanted to repay us (and maybe buy Kanda's hand in marriage) and offered us something from his goods for free. And before that whole shitshow we were just talking about your birthday. I mean, I was talking about your birthday, Kanda was doing his usual broody crap. And the guy was pretty insistent so I was like yeah why not?_

_So here you go. Happy birthday, little one._

_From Daisya (and Kanda, sort of)_

_P.S. I tried to get the pretty boy to write something and I almost got my fingers twisted off for my efforts. God what an asshat_

_P.P.S. He's the one who picked out the comb, so if you don't like it blame him. Pretty sure he just pointed at the most expensive looking thing in the place, because you know, he's a jerk._

 

The entire Science Division breaks into laughter, and Lenalee beams and crushes the letter to her chest. 

She'll ask Jeryy to teach her how to make shark fin soup for Daisya's birthday in April. And then she'll ask Komui if it's possible to get her hands on a cactus plant by June.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -that awkward moment when you write about a character who dies later in canon and you accidentally get attached hahaHA 
> 
> -also i know next to nothing about traditional chinese combs (i apologize to my ancestors, i have failed you) so uh sorry if they don't actually come in wood?? but imo it takes a stupid merchant to give a way a hair ornament made of, idk, silver or something away for free


	6. in which regret is a powerful source of misery

 

Lena grows up to become a force to be reckoned with. As it turns out, having to deal with an immature, childish airhead of an older brother and his equally irresponsible scientist friends on a regular basis does that to you. 

It isn't just the fact that being punched by her hurts like a total bitch, and taking one of her kicks is enough to confine even Kanda to the infirmary for at least a whole day. She knows how to drop people to their hands and knees and make them beg for forgiveness just by glancing at them, and Kanda's fairly sure she learned that from him. He'd be proud, if he weren't on the receiving end of that look so often.

So he has a shit attitude towards people. Who even cares? He doesn't like people, and he finds that being nice to them is more often than not a complete waste of everyone's time.

The bottom line is, this tiny Chinese girl is far scarier than she has any right to be. 

Which is why, for the first time in five years, Kanda is genuinely fearing for his safety.

He looks down both ends of the hall for the fifth time, before quietly easing Lena's door open with his shoulder — Kanda huffs a sigh of relief that it isn't locked — stepping inside, and kicking it closed after him. He allows himself approximately fifteen seconds to just. Inhale. Exhale. And then he carefully displaces a completely knocked out Lena from his arms onto her bed.

Once that's done, he raises a hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose and just. Contemplates his life choices for a second. 

It wasn't his fault. He wasn't the one who gave Lena the bottle of tequila. He didn't force it to her mouth. He just didn't stop her from swiping the bottle from him and taking a sip because he doesn't believe in babying her. Let her do whatever she wants. 

So what if it's a crappy idea to let a thirteen year old try tequila! Kanda has technically only been alive for five years, and no one treats him like a five year old.

Plus, he had no way of knowing she'd be reinventing the definition of  _lightweight_. He imagines that the look on his face after she belched and toppled face first to the ground was something Daisya would have liked to file away for blackmail. 

It wasn't his fault, right? Right.

Kanda exits the room after making sure the hallway is still empty and speed-walks the fuck out of there, fervently hoping no one discovers him and a very wasted Lena anywhere in the same vicinity. He endeavours to get as far away as he can from this absolute shitfest. Maybe he'll get lucky and be assigned to that mission in Alaska after all. Maybe he should even ask for it.

Not that it will do him any good after she wakes up. The girl can practically _fly_.

Kanda knows she wouldn't kill him. Not really. She'll probably just send him to the Head Nurse, and that will be terrifying in its own right. No, Lena wouldn't kill him. But. 

Komui. 

He'd rather Lena do it. 

(He doesn't get to go to Alaska, but Lena doesn't remember a thing the next day, brushing off her falling unconscious in the afternoon and mysterious headache the morning after as side effects of exhaustion. Kanda almost thanks god.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is canon that he accidentally fed her tequila once and she passed tf out (komui's corner, volume 24) lmfao what a disaster


	7. in which there are PUPPIES

 

It must be a Christmas miracle.

"Unbelievable," Lenalee whispers, squinting as she looks on from behind the corner of a pub. People are walking past her and giving her weird glances, but she's too preoccupied to pay them any mind. 

There is a dog. At Kanda's feet. 

The sight of the small thing — all tiny feet and wagging tongue and coppery fur — made her stop short of turning the corner a minute ago. And now she's just observing. 

The creature prances in a circle around the exorcist, yipping enthusiastically at his legs. Lenalee can't recall a time a living, breathing being radiated that much pure joy around him. Of all the people the dog could have gone to, it chose Kanda.  _Kanda_.

It's utterly mystifying. 

And the guy in question just. Glowers at it. As if the force of his gaze will make it go away or something.

"I swear to god, Kanda," Lenalee mutters fiercely. If he — kicks it, or something — there are things even she cannot forgive. 

Her fears go unwarranted, however, because Kanda huffs a sigh, looks around like he's scanning the crowd for someone — she was supposed to meet him there five minutes ago — and then bends down and pets it. 

_Kanda._

Petting a  _dog_. 

" _Unbelievable_ ," Lenalee hisses again. She whips her head around so fast her hair flies around her face, looking for someone,  _anyone_ she recognizes to witness this with her. Reever. Reever was supposed to be here too, he was running an errand for Komui and it was on the way to the train station, but they all got separated from each other because of the festival in town. Which is why they agreed to meet here when they contacted each other with their golems, across from the pub closest to the station. 

"Are you serious," Lenalee whispers despondently. This must be some cruel cosmic joke. "Such a groundbreaking moment and I'm the only one here to see it?!"

"Only one to see what?" Reever asks, loudly, as he materializes behind her. Lenalee whirls and hushes him with such force that he physically recoils. "Why are you whispering?"

She figures that in this particular scenario seeing is more powerful than hearing, so she doesn't bother to explain. Instead she flaps her hand uselessly at him in a somewhat panicked attempt to get him to come closer. When he just raises a puzzled eyebrow she sighs, exasperated, and jabs aggressively in Kanda's general direction twice.

"What are you — oh. Oh my god."

"I know," Lenalee breathes. 

"Oh my. God."

"I  _know_."

"Lenalee.  _Look_."

Lenalee slaps her hand over her mouth to violently smother what would have been a deafening squeal as another dog, larger and dirtier with a golden brown coat, stalks out of a nearby alleyway and zeroes in on Kanda. 

The two behind the pub watch, mesmerized, as another one, smaller and darker, trots merrily into view shortly behind the big one. And then more and more dogs just. Appear. And Kanda just kneels and. Pets. Every one of them.

"Maybe," Reever mutters, the scientist in him kicking into gear, "it's pheromones. Of the interspecies variety." He continues murmuring under his breath as the spectacle continues. Eventually the townspeople start to stop and croon at the strange sight of a fifteen year old Asian boy in church clothing surrounded by puppies.

And where there are puppies, there are excitable children. 

If Kanda finds Lenalee and Reever here they're both definitely, most certainly dead. One hundred percent. There is absolutely no chance he'll let them live after he realizes they just saw him let himself be mobbed by drooling dogs _and_  screaming kids with virtually no resistance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -wtf is thiiiiissssssss
> 
> -when asked if kanda was a dog or cat person in an omake in volume 25 lenalee and reever seemed pretty certain he favoured dogs SOOOO


	8. in which strength is in the eye of the beholder

 

"More of that freaky sibling telepathy again, huh," Kanda comments after Lena hangs up on Johnny. The noise at the inn is at a low enough volume that she hears him even from ten paces away, and vice versa. From the conversation it's clear Komui has passed out in the trash heap he calls an office again.

He doesn't know how she can sense when Komui's asleep, or hungry, or slacking off, or whatever, and he's fairly sure he doesn't want to know. And he absolutely does not want to find out how it works from Komui's end.

"It's not freaky," Lena argues as she takes a seat in front of her dinner across from him. She's wrong.

"What would you call it, then?"

"...Convenient?"

Kanda scoffs.

She pouts. "It is! I know roughly how he's doing, even when I'm not there."

Now, that. That's bordering on obsession. Stalkerish, creepy obsession, like her brother. Of course, Komui skipped cheerfully over that line a long time ago.

Kanda is perfectly aware of how reassuring it feels to fixate and latch on to the most solid thing in sight when the world is a crumbling tower. He also knows how nasty the fallout is after that one thing breaks — how quickly everything else goes to immediate shit with it.

Lena, interestingly, doesn't seem to care. Her shaky tower is built entirely upon fragile human lives. Every time someone dies they take a slice of her with them, and Komui has dibs on the biggest piece by far. She has to know how ridiculously dangerous that is; she isn't stupid by any means. It's baffling.

And yet. Casualties happen pretty much regularly, but her strength hasn't faltered. 

Seriously. Baffling.

It's still a given that they're not all coming out of this alive. What's going to be left of her, Kanda wonders, if this war ends and she happens to be the last one standing? 

Not that it's any of his business. He doesn't plan to stick around forever.

He hates that that makes him feel guilty, of all things.

 

 

Lenalee isn't sure what it is that makes her turn around to wait for Kanda. They agreed to meet back in town, and that she should go ahead of him to dispose of the group of akuma that fled from the forest. Their assignment this time isn't anything out of the ordinary: a frankly appalling number of Level Ones and one Level Two. Nothing they couldn't handle.

She can't even contact him, since her golem was broken in the chaos. So she waits.

She stretches her neck, rests her back against a tree and allows her mind to run idly. Her world is a collection of puzzle pieces, and right now her train of thought drifts towards the fragment Kanda occupies. She hones in on his statement from last night.

It's uncharacteristic of him to express curiosity for anything unrelated to the mission at hand, so when he mumbled it under his breath Lenalee was so taken aback she couldn't think of a response before he retired to bed. 

_A real masochist, aren't you._

She stayed up late thinking about it. Kanda is impolite, but he doesn't say impolite things without reason. Fifteen hours later, and Lenalee fancies that she finally knows what he was referring to. 

Kanda doesn't have the patience to lie, or do anything he deems a waste of his time. That was how he was when she met him, and that is how he still is. He is unchanging and unmoving — a rock. Lenalee's mental wellbeing when she was eight years old owed a lot to that particular characteristic of his. It's comforting, still, to know that regardless of what happens he'll always be the same.

Even if his way of looking at people grates on her nerves she can't condemn him for it. War is horrific, and everyone has their own horrific ways of coping. Kanda doesn't care about people, so he never looks their way or tries to understand them. As a result he's only perceptive when he wants to be — Lenalee supposes she should be flattered.

Considering his own worldview, he probably finds her beliefs incomprehensible at best. Completely deranged, at worst. He's come to the conclusion that it's only a matter of time before she crashes and burns with the way she's going, and part of her agrees. She's fine with that. She's okay with being driven to insanity in the event that everyone she loves dies. There wouldn't be anything left to live for anyway.

Lenalee is weak. She knows this, so she puts on a brave face and forces herself to fight with fear as her motivation — fear that she'll end up alone, that her family will die and her world will scatter if she doesn't _do something_. 

She'll gladly give her life for them if that's what it takes.

But really, a masochist? Rude. Lenalee doesn't  _enjoy_ her way of life. She just doesn't know how else to keep going.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the thudding of uneven footfalls against dirt. Lenalee looks up to see Kanda limping into sight, favouring his left leg. She glances at the stray branch stuck in his hair — noticing, with a small sigh, that it's out of its ponytail again — and surmises that attempting to fight an aerial battle using trees as footholds hadn't gone well for him.

It's a good thing she waited. It's still a good half hour's walk away from their inn, but with Lenalee's boots she can get them there in five minutes tops.

She gently untangles the stick from his hair and fusses over his swollen ankle and the gash in his thigh for a solid fifteen seconds — a new record! — before he cuts her off. "Why are you even here?" he demands with his trademark scowl.

Lenalee shrugs. "I had a feeling."

His face scrunches up like it does when he's deeply dreading something. The last time he wore that look General Tiedoll was dashing towards him, a box of jam-filled scones tucked under his arm, to sweep him into a heartwarming embrace. Unlike everyone else present, Kanda didn't find being ambushed by sweets and affection very funny. Or heartwarming. 

"I told you," she says, fully enjoying this. "Convenient."

"Freaky," Kanda insists.

She rolls her eyes. "We need to get back to town. I'm super hungry. So." She holds her arms out to him in an open and inviting manner, and summons the warmest, most saccharine smile she can muster — the one that always makes Kanda take an involuntary step back without fail. "Potato sack or bridal-style?"

Kanda doesn't disappoint. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -don't try this at home kids, obsessing and being overprotective over your loved ones at your own expense is not actually a healthy thing despite what shounen manga may tell you 
> 
> -*switches moods quicker than kaneki ken's hair colour changes* hAHAHA OOPS


	9. in which babies are hard to sit

 

Kanda doesn't remember when his first name became a Trigger.

Tiedoll said it often enough in that annoying, endeared, _fatherly_ tone of his during the horrible year they spent travelling together. The old man wouldn't  _stop_ , in spite of the number of times Kanda bared his teeth or flipped him off or caused collateral damage to make him. He didn't quit even after he spoke for the first time for the better part of nine months just to tell him to shut the fuck up and stop calling him that.

Tiedoll was the one who gave him a surname and he didn't even use it.

Despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, the general isn't an idiot. Kanda has no idea if he knows what the name means to him, where it comes from, but there's no way the old man was oblivious to the fact that he _didn't want to be called by it_.  

But Tiedoll is nothing if not irritatingly persistent when it comes to things he thinks are for _his student's own good_ , so Kanda had little choice but to very, very grudgingly accept it. When he did, what used to be a reason for outrage became a routine, and routine slowly transitioned to normality. And now Kanda would rather swallow poison than admit that Tiedoll's habit of using his first name had, especially during those first few hellish months, become something of a grounding mechanism.

He only responded to  _Yuu_ for a little over half a year, but that one word defined who he was up until everyone — almost everyone — who knew him by that name was slaughtered. That one word was everything. To completely sever it from himself, Kanda supposes, would have been disorienting. Especially when you're simultaneously being brought out into a world thousands, millions of times larger than the little garden you woke up in, shortly after murdering your best friend.

There's always been a nagging voice in the corner of his mind that tells Kanda he should be grateful he was taken in by Tiedoll, as opposed to Cross Marian or Winters Socalo. Try as hard as he might he's never been able to get rid of it.

At the moment he's beginning to think the voice actually knows what it's talking about, as the one-eyed, red-headed dipshit approaching him with an outstretched hand gleefully calls him by the name he's tried so hard to forget.

That his master has already been doing the same for six years is very likely the only thing that delays Kanda from being overwhelmed by the maelstrom of unwanted memories and homicidal rage, and slitting this boy's throat before someone has the chance to stop him.

 

 

At times Lenalee thinks she ought to be getting a bigger paycheck. If she's expected to hunt down monsters and holy substances _and_ babysit, she should really be compensated accordingly.

Especially if the child in question has a sword and is prone to violent outbursts. 

To be fair, Kanda doesn't do that too often anymore. Within the past few years he seems to have realized it's more trouble than it's worth to beat up or strangle or cut down everything he finds annoying. The poor redhead he wants to murder this time probably thought it'd be safe to just nudge him a little. 

He just shouldn't have called him by his first name. 

"Out of the way," Kanda demands, sword less than two centimetres from Lenalee's throat.

"Not until you prove you can be civilized," she replies sternly. "Put Mugen away."

"Yeah, Yuu, come on," Lavi — that's his name, right? — says from behind her. "Be nice, yeah?"

That does absolutely nothing but make everything worse, because now Kanda actually tries to cut Lavi up _through_ her and Lenalee has no choice but to invoke to defend them both. She doesn't know whether to be offended that he's so willing to attack her too — do these six years of friendship mean  _nothing_ to him — or flattered that he thinks she can get away unscathed despite being caught in the crossfire. Which she can, but still.

Or maybe she should be offended, again, that he doesn't even seem to be acknowledging her presence right now, hyper-focused as he is on the boy behind her.

"Don't," Kanda hisses softly as the last vestiges of humanity vanish from his face, "call me that."

Bad. This is bad. Lenalee feels cold sweat trickle down the back of her neck.

"Why not?" Apparently Lavi has no self-preservation instincts. Zero. None. Lenalee's a little tempted to just let them go at it. Lavi can defend himself, right? "General Tiedoll calls you that. Why can't I?"

"Lavi," Lenalee says pleasantly. "Shut up for a second."

Lavi shuts up.

"Kanda," she continues. "If you kill him now, you're going to be the one sent off on that mission tomorrow. We're already understaffed."

If there's anything Lenalee has learned about reasoning with Kanda, it's that you have to point out how his actions would inconvenience _him_. Trying to appeal to his conscience? Never works.

He doesn't seem inclined to stop, so she adds, "Bart — the Finder — is going to be there."

Kanda doesn't like anyone, but he  _hates_ Bart. Enough to actually remember his name.

Eventually he straightens, sheathes Mugen, and walks away without another word. Lavi, bless him, doesn't try to shout anything after him as the crowd that had been forming around them parts for the swordsman in a hurry to stumble out of his way.

Lenalee resists the urge to go after him. She's been mediating for Kanda for years now, and that — that was new. It didn't at all resemble his usual hot-blooded outbursts. That was cold, and quiet. That was, for the lack of a better word, _real_ — a genuine glimpse of the part of him he never lets anyone see. 

Everyone knows to never call Kanda by his first name if you aren't General Tiedoll. No one knows why. No one has tried to since Kanda was ten. 

Someone breathes a sigh of relief behind her. "Thank goodness you were here, Lenalee," Reever says, walking up to her with a stack of papers in his arms. "You're the only person he listens to other than the General and Marie."

"Why is that?" Lavi asks. His recent near-death experience doesn't seem to have dampened the curious gleam in his eye. Is that because he's a Bookman, Lenalee wonders.

 _We both hate the Order,_ is what Lenalee doesn't say. Something must have shown on her face because Lavi's eye narrows like he just caught an intriguing morsel of information in his line of sight, and Lenalee all but trips over herself to squeeze out, "We've known each other for six years. We practically grew up together."

Lavi hums and grins, a little flirtatiously. "Well, thanks for saving my ass, Miss Lee." He holds a hand out.

Lenalee takes it and smiles. She hopes Komui isn't nearby; she doesn't want to have to save this boy twice in one day. "Lenalee. Any time, Lavi."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone headcanoned that kanda didn't/couldn't speak for a time after alma and that hurt me so much i just had to include it here somewhere because i suck


	10. in which exorcists should really find methods of stress relief outside of violence

 

Kanda grits his teeth and fights a twitch in his eye as he shoves past three sweaty, sooty men on his way to the bartender, leaving Lena and Lavi to narrowly squeeze through the gaps he leaves behind him. They split up three hours ago, going around to local establishments to gather information on some elusive rejuvenating fountain that only shows up at the ass crack of dawn.

This is the last building on the block, which is why the three of them met up in front and entered together. None of them found any solid leads. An hour until sunrise and for some reason this place has far more energy than it should, being a coal mining town, at such a godforsaken hour. Side effect of the Innocence and its supposed energizing effect, maybe.

Kanda would kill for a bed right now.  _Lena_ would kill for a bed right now, judging by the bags under her eyes and the fake smile on her face, and that's saying something. 

Despite all this, Kanda's inquiry comes out a lot more polite than he thought it would. "Where the fuck is this magic fountain," he snarls as he slams his fist down on the counter, leaving a fist-sized dent in the half-rotten wood. The barkeep, a small portly man, jumps a foot into the air rather than replying, so Kanda adds, "Answer me quickly and don't lie if you don't want a sword in your gut." He removes Mugen partway from its sheath to accentuate his point. 

"I — I don't know!" the other man screeches, dropping the bottle in his hands. The sound it makes as it shatters startles the man into jumping again. "No one does! There — there are just a bunch of rumours!"

"And these rumours are?" Kanda's mood is souring exponentially by the second. He's pretty sure he can hear someone puking his intestines out about two metres to his eight o'clock. 

"W — well the — s — some people say that it's — it's —"

"Stop stuttering!"

"I — I'm sorry!!"

And it keeps going like that for another five minutes. Kanda leaves the feeble mess of a man with his insides on the inside, and yeah, he knows: despite what Lena might say, his restraint is truly awe-inspiring sometimes. At least he got something sort of concrete. He turns around, ready to bodily drag both Lena and Lavi out behind him if that's what it takes to get out of this filthy shithole as quickly as possible — only to find that they're not there.

His attention is drawn to the left by the noisy clatter of overturned furniture. Kanda squints, trying to peer through the crowd adjacent to a capsized table and — yep, surely enough, his two companions are trapped in the midst of a bunch of smelly, oily drunks. 

Kanda allows himself a facepalm. 

He contemplates just leaving them there and finishing the mission himself; even if there are akuma mixed into the people in the bar, they can probably handle it.

But. It's been a while since he's been in a bar fight. And he's just a little stressed.

He dodges around the bodies in his way and approaches the group in time to hear someone say, "Now, now, little lady, that wasn't very nice. My buddy was just trying to talk to you."

Kanda looks down and catches sight of a man slouched against the flipped table, sitting in a puddle of what smells like a mix of stale beer and vomit. Undoubtedly knocked unconscious by one of Lena's punches; to the face, by the looks of the ugly swelling above his eye. Kanda snorts quietly. At least she didn't kick the poor fucker. 

"Talk to me?" The strange lilt in Lena's voice wipes the smirk off of Kanda's face. "He was grabbing me."

"Well sorry 'bout that, we don't get many pretty girls 'round here. He just got a little excited."

"Yeah, hon, no need to get all freaked out."

"Fellas." Lavi's doing a rather impressive job of keeping his voice light and even. "Do you think we could just, uh, leave? We don't want any trouble and I'm sure you'd prefer girls closer to your own age anyway."

"Aw, don't say that. What are you, anyway, her boyfriend?"

Lena _growls_  and the resounding slap that follows indicates that someone just tried to touch her again. The men start yelling and a more frantic note tints the edges of Lavi's voice. 

They don't have time for this. And now Kanda is stressed  _and_ pissed.

He's close enough to see the bald asshole who has a grubby hand on Lena's shoulder and a blond one clutching at her other arm from behind. There's only one other man in the way, thin and rather sunken into himself. Kanda kicks at his ankle hard enough to leave a sizeable bruise, yanks at the back of his shirt, and the man goes sprawling backwards, shrieking as he falls. The rest turn around at the sudden noise, including the bald man, but he doesn't react fast enough to prevent Kanda's fist from smashing into his nose.

There's an extremely satisfying _crunch_. Blood goes flying.

Kanda hates bars. He loves bar fights. 

There's a brief respite where the air is permeated by only stunned silence, during which nothing but the bartender's squeak of despair can be heard, right before the inevitable outbreak of noise.

It doesn't take long for everyone else in the tiny room — some thirty to forty men — to gang up on them. Unfortunately for them Kanda doesn't believe in pulling his punches, even against normal humans, and the other two are really nowhere near as friendly and harmless as they look. The blond one who grabbed Lena's arm earlier is in a sorry enough state to prove that three times over — he's probably never going to father children. 

They're out the door after about four minutes. Lavi leaves some money for the bartender, who passed out right after the chaos started, and spares a pitying glance back at the dozen or so men nursing the biggest bruises, probably praying for their sake that Lena refrained from using her legs. He's the one who speaks first in his usual obnoxious cheer as they walk at a brisk pace to the destination given to them.

"We're gonna be in deep shit for that one, aren't we."

"Komui can cover it. It's what he's good for."

"Why, Yuu," Lavi gasps. "You look like you're in a good mood."

"Shut up. Call me that again and I'll skin you alive."

"You  _are_ in a good mood! You didn't even pull out Mugen."

Kanda's hand is just starting to twitch towards the sword slung over his shoulder when Lena giggles into her hands.

"That was my first bar fight," she whispers, slightly out of breath. There's a skip in her step now so she probably isn’t tired anymore. Kanda isn't either. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.

"Congratulations," he tells her dryly. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes," she replies. There's a sort of soft astonishment in her voice, like she can't quite believe she just took enjoyment out of beating the crap out of total strangers. Total strangers who were trying to harass a fifteen year old girl, but still. 

"Oh my god," Lavi whispers, horrified. "Yuu! You've corrupted her!"

Kanda snorts, resisting the urge to point out that the rabbit was having as much fun as the rest of them. If he starts, Lavi will never stop. "Next time we'll see who gets the higher body count."

Lena laughs and claps her hands in delight. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember kids, if strange older men try to make a pass at you follow lena's example and punch em in the dick


	11. in which there are all the hugs

 

The first time Lenalee leaves for a mission there's a drum pounding away in her chest and her blood is rushing through her veins at a thousand kilometres per hour like a runaway train. Komui is there to see her off and after she trips into his embrace she very nearly throws up on him. 

Three months since he got here. And now she has to say goodbye. 

But her brother is nothing if not attentive to his sister's feelings. He makes a big show of swooping her up into his arms bridal style and spinning her around and around, her ponytails flying wildly about her head. Lenalee is giggling and squealing by the time he puts her down, mostly at the way he's panting and holding his hip. He drops to his knees, then, wraps his arms tightly around her and plants a big kiss on her forehead. 

"For luck!" he exclaims with a wide, encouraging smile on his face. 

Lenalee grins, a bit hesitantly, then kisses his cheek. "For luck," she repeats.

Then off she goes. When she gets back she's exhausted and frightened and there are a thousand little pains sprinkled all over her body. Komui is there to greet her, and after she sprints into him he picks her up, spins her around until there's a smile on her face and colour in her cheeks. He sets her down, kisses her forehead, and turns his cheek toward her so she can return the favour. 

(He does this every time she leaves and returns, before every  _I'm off_ and after every  _I'm home_. Lenalee makes him stop by the time she turns thirteen and starts to worry that his back is going to murder him if he continues.)

Lenalee is eleven, returning from her first mission with Kanda, the first time the latter sees this entire exchange. It's after he makes a muted gagging noise and stalks off that the idea worms into her head.

After she was released from what was essentially prison, she couldn't find it in her to get along with the medical staff. Not for a long time. It didn't matter how badly her bruises hurt or how many cuts she had on her legs; the Head Nurse was the only one Lenalee trusted to treat her wounds, because she was the only one who didn't trigger vivid flashbacks and a panic attack when she touched her. Warming up to the other nurses came later, after Headquarters started feeling more like home and less like a life sentence and she realized that maybe humans weren't all awful after all. 

Kanda is the same, but worse — while he certainly hates the infirmary he also hates people, and being touched by people, in general. Marie tried putting him over his shoulder and carrying him there once after a training mishap and the boy kicked him in the ribs hard enough to leave a bruise. And that was  _Marie._  

Lenalee can count on two hands the number of times Kanda has willingly made physical contact with her or anyone else outside of training in the four years they've known each other. Everyone cuts him a wide berth; Lenalee refuses to do the same. She's confident that he  _is_ capable of kindness, from the first time she knocked on his door and he fumbled and cursed his way through bandaging her legs, or the handful of times she's fallen asleep on his shoulder while meditating. He only elbows her away after she wakes up, regardless of how tightly his jaw is clenched or how tense the muscles in his back and upper arms are.

She understands; intruding on his privacy, his safe place, is the last thing she wants to do. But her gut tells her that he'll never come to the same conclusion she did with the nurses if everyone keeps avoiding him. 

Lenalee spends an entire week summoning every ounce of courage she can muster in preparation for this. And then, finally, on the day she has to leave for Naples, ten minutes before she's supposed to meet up with Daisya, she chases Kanda down in the hallways, blurts out that she's about to leave for a mission, presses the world's stiffest kiss to his cheek, and takes off before he remembers he has Mugen in his hand. 

Okay. Okay. That. Terrifying.

Daisya notices her strange behaviour and eventually tickles the truth out of her on the train. To her utter lack of surprise he chooses to laugh at her rather than be of any help, and now she just wants to melt into her seat so she doesn't have to go back and look Kanda in the face.

She does, though. Putting on a brave face is what she's good at, and plus, she hasn't changed her mind about getting her first friend acquainted with friendly physical affection. 

So Lenalee does what she does best. She chases Kanda down in the halls, blurts out that she's back, her mission was fine, Daisya was funny as always, and wraps her arms around his shoulders for a full two seconds before her survival instincts rudely kick in and she's sprinting to the safety of Komui's office. 

 

 

"Lena what the hell," Kanda hisses through clenched teeth the fifth time it happens. It takes five times for her to quit immediately running off. 

Lena glances up at him and has the  _nerve_ to look sheepish about it. "Good morning," she says, evidently ignoring that her arms are still snaked around his torso.

Kanda keeps his arms raised stiffly in the air above his head in a position of surrender since he doesn't know where else to put them. He's never been in this situation before and the fact that it's Lena putting him in it is the only thing stopping him from shoving her out the nearest window. 

That it's her is probably the only thing stopping him at confusion and preventing him from descending into full-blown, terror-filled panic. 

She finally lets go with one last squeeze after what feels like an eternity, and heads to the kitchen while Kanda reluctantly follows. She sits and eats quietly with him at breakfast like usual, like she didn't just ambush him upon seeing him leave his room.

And then somehow it keeps happening. 

The ninth time, Lena makes and maintains eye contact from the get go, large eyes serious and unyielding. Kanda, thoroughly unnerved at this point, slowly drops one of his arms and awkwardly pats her on the shoulder, and that seems to do it — she grins and releases him, then skips to the kitchen to talk to Jeryy. 

And it _keeps happening_. She keeps hugging him, and he keeps... not pushing her away. It gets to the point where it's just easier to smack an arm around her, quick and painless. 

At least she only does it when no one is around to see it. And it isn't... something that he absolutely. Hates.

_Fuck._

Tiedoll told him, once, about the necessity of human contact. About how social and physical isolation wears on the mind, dulls its edge, and eventually breaks it. Or whatever. Kanda scoffed at the idea because he didn't see the difference; he can survive just as well on his own. He doesn't need — whatever it is the old man was talking about. He doesn't need people.

But every time he comes back in worse shape than he left and he's tackled by Lena and her honest-to-god gratitude that he's somehow still breathing, he hesitates. He lets her hold onto him like he's her lifeline in the middle of a storm at sea. He stiffly pats her back and fucks up her hair and wipes the snot roughly off her face with his sleeve and it's stupid, and unnecessary, and frankly utterly pathetic, but it calms him as much as it reassures her. 

Years pass before he comes to understand that her unhappiness is not so much an inconvenience as it is something he feels genuine... _concern_  over. And that the relief he feels when her frown melts into a smile has become more for her sake than it is a result of being released from the intimidating responsibility of consoling a distressed teenage girl.

And if that isn't the most horrifying realization that has dawned on him since he decided he'd rather live for a near stranger than die with his only friend, he doesn't know what is.

 

 

Lenalee hasn't cried this much in years. Kanda emerges from a door carrying Krory over his shoulder and she only sobs harder.

Kanda and Allen argue, as always, and Lenalee is fairly sure they could have gone on until the end of time if General Cross' patience didn't snap. 

"Let them the fuck in already, stupid apprentice," he growls, interrupting a rather juvenile name-calling contest. Lavi and Kanda make simultaneous  _oh-no-I-recognize-that-voice_ faces while Chaozii blinks on in confusion.

Lenalee notes distractedly as she sniffles and wipes her face that the general is as wily as he is dramatic; his tone and word choice imply irritation but the glint in his eyes as he watches Allen spells out amusement.

Allen mutters something under his breath — probably a curse at his master's expense — and presses a key. The note rings eerily, bouncing off the ivory walls, and Allen suppresses a light shudder at the hollow sound. He tells the group in the Ark to go through the door that promptly opens to Lavi's right. They hesitate, glance at each other, before Lavi shrugs and does as he's told, and Kanda and Chaozii follow.

It occurs to Lenalee that the people she believed were dead just five minutes ago are about to come through that door, and she forces her legs to unfurl from underneath her, to stand, and when she struggles Allen offers her a hand. She takes it gratefully. They exchange identical smiles of pure relief as she pulls herself up, just as Lavi and Chaozii stride into the room.

She doesn't even give Lavi any time to holler a greeting or commit the room to memory like he does every time he walks into a new environment. He gets half a glance at the piano before she pulls both him and Chaozii into her arms as gently as she can.

Lavi stiffens noticeably under her touch. It takes him longer than the usual split second to relax, even just fractionally, and Lenalee can't help but viciously despise Road and whatever she did to him. When his muscles finally loosen, he laughs and rubs circles reassuringly into her back while Chaozii awkwardly does the same. 

Tim _graaaah_ s and Lenalee shifts her head toward the mirror just enough to see the reflection of the golem flying frantic circles around Allen and General Cross while the two glare wordlessly at each other. The smoke from the latter's cigarette dances a lazy trail into the air between them.

She decides to worry about that later, choosing instead to make her way over to where Kanda has deposited Krory on the couch. Kneeling next to him, she can hear how faint his breathing is, how little his chest is moving. Tears begin to prick at her eyes again as she smoothes a lock of hair away from his face and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, and she stifles them as best as she can.

She uses the edge of the couch to push herself up, and finding nowhere else to turn to, she turns, like always, to Kanda. He's covered in his own dried blood, raising a questioning eyebrow at her, and the familiarity of the look he's giving her contrasts so sharply with where they are it almost makes her laugh. The tattoo on his chest has grown, black tendrils reaching over his shoulder and down his torso as if poised to consume. An ominous finger tugs at the back of Lenalee's mind in reaction to that observation, but she's too sluggish and exhausted to examine it.

The tears are really beginning to spill over now, and  _goddammit_ she really wishes she could stop but she can't because this is real and absurd and  _they're all alive and_  —

Kanda rolls his eyes and scratches the back of his neck and it truly is a testament to Lenalee's perseverance over the years that  _he's_ the one who holds an arm out, as if on instinct, a whole second before she runs into him, throws her arms around his waist and buries her face into his shoulder.

Which is injured, judging by the sudden intake of breath he fails to stifle and the minuscule step back he takes when her head knocks against it. She considers moving away but his arms wrap securely around her back and keep her there, his way of telling her he's fine with her staying as she is. She inhales the scent of blood mixed with sweat and grime, along with a faint trace of familiar soap, as she breathes in — proof, combined with the steady rhythmic beating she can feel beneath her cheek, that he really is here with her.

It's always been Lenalee's opinion that Kanda gives the best hugs. Komui and Jeryy give the warmest, tightest hugs, but Kanda — she's never felt safer anywhere else. 

A muffled snort prompts her to glance up at the mirror again just in time to see Lavi cramming his knuckles to his mouth, Allen smirking and playfully waggling his eyebrows at Kanda, and Kanda mouthing  _shut the fuck up_  in their general direction and threatening bloody murder with nothing but his eyes. A startled laugh passes through Lenalee's lips and her entire body trembles with sincere, unabashed glee as she presses her face deeper into Kanda's chest.

They're beaten and tattered and nearly broken, but they're still alive, still safe, and that's all that matters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no no nO THIS IS SO CHEESY NOOOOOOOO


	12. in which curses are a real pain in everyone's ass

 

"Can't you be a bit nicer for once in your life?" Lena scolds. This is practically routine at this point — her complaining halfheartedly at Kanda for being a dick. Him having neither the time nor the energy to care. 

Why she does is beyond him; Lena's never been one to give a crap about complete strangers. It seems this one only took half a day to endear himself to her. 

"Allen is a good person," she insists as she ducks and whirls, sweeping her leg at his ankles. He jumps.

"Nope. Don't care."

"I bet Daisya would like him."

Kanda sidesteps a drop kick, swiftly bringing his wooden sword around in an arc parallel to the ground. Lena intercepts it with her forearm at an angle and skillfully deflects the brunt of the blow.

"That's your argument? That's supposed to convince me?"

She squints at him suspiciously. "Why are you being like this? Most of the time you're just aggressively indifferent. You're acting like you actively hate him."

"I do." He takes a swing at her again at the same time she raises her leg and swipes it downward at breakneck speed, trapping the sword to the floor. 

"You've only met him once."

"That's more than enough."

" _Kanda._ "

She rises out of her stance, steps back, and places her hands on her hips, physically refusing to continue the match until he gives her a straight answer. 

"He isn't going to live long."

Lena's brow furrows. "Because he's a parasitic type?"

"Because he's an idiot."

"You think that about everyone. You thought that about me."

"You  _are_ an idiot. He's going to die and you're going to get your heart broken."

Lena's eyes narrow and darken, in that way that tells him she's actually starting to get pissed. When she speaks her voice is low and her breathing controlled; you wouldn't be able to guess she's been sparring with him if it weren't for the thin sheen of sweat on her face and arms.

"Maybe you should stop judging people before you get to know them."

"Sounds like an unnecessary waste of time."

"At least I'm not a bitter, apathetic shell of a person like you are," Lena hisses.

She catches herself, then, eyes widening as she takes in the surprising amount of venom inserted into that sentence. Kanda clenches his jaw, clenches his sword, and walks away, ignoring the apologies stumbling out of her mouth. 

It isn't often that he riles her up enough to get her to actually insult him. She'll feel guilty about it and he'll shrug it off. Routine.

But this was different. That was about as altruistic as Kanda could ever get, and she snapped at him like he'd been deliberately picking a fight. (He wasn't.)

The kid is doomed; that much Kanda could tell just from looking at him. Fighting alongside him only strengthens his opinion and builds on it. The beansprout is an idiot. Self-sacrificing, noble, kind, and —

— and deeply and almost imperceptibly twisted. Looks like an angel but sure as hell doesn't fight like one. He's the kind that would gladly dig his own grave and lie in it if it means saving the world, or whatever it is he wants so damn badly he'd willingly put his own name on the waitlist for hell just to get to it. 

The kid's cursed. Marked for death. He's going to get himself offed in some stupid, tragic manner. Lena's going to cry about it and Kanda's going to be one of the people picking up the pieces whether he likes it or not. 

God, he hates cursed people. They step into your life, tracking mud all over the place, tainting and transforming everything they touch. And then they leave, and nothing is the same.

He'll sooner cut his own ear off than befriend one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -oh kanda. little do /you/ know
> 
> -fuck my brotp feels for kanda and allen are slipping in, shit shit
> 
> -i am. jumping all over the place aren't i. sorry lmao i suck


	13. in which soup makes a pretty good alternative to fighting

 

It's about two in the morning when Lenalee gives up on sleep and slowly sits up in her bed. Her blankets slide off of her like water.

Unwelcome thoughts always come knocking at the worst hours.

The cold creeps across her skin, raising goosebumps, and she shivers as she tosses her blankets aside and steps off the mattress, before remembering that she has slippers now; it's been almost seven years since she had any use for those. Her feet blindly skim the floor in the dark before they touch something soft, and she slips them on. On her way to the door she lifts her jacket off the back of her chair and puts that on, too.

She's careful to close the door behind her as quietly as possible, more out of sheer habit than politeness. No one has really slept since the attack on Headquarters. If she listens closely, leans over the railing just a bit, she can make out a faint chorus of voices coming from the lower floors — the Science Division working overnight again, no doubt. She overheard Reever complaining that the destruction set all their projects back by months, if not years. A lot of damage was done.

A lot of people were killed. 

Now that she's out here, she isn't sure where to go next. Komui is most likely working. Kanda is probably asleep. And Jeryy —

— Jeryy. 

She shakes her head and burrows further into her coat, hiding from the chill in the air. She'll wait until the morning. Preparation takes several hours, and he might not have all the ingredients on hand. Instead Lenalee makes a mental note of it and takes a walk around her floor, hoping the mindlessness of the exercise will take her mind elsewhere for at least a few more hours. 

She asks Jeryy about it over the counter at breakfast. He turns away from the chopping board and stares. She watches with a sad smile as the confusion, the realization, the hollow grief, and finally wholehearted encouragement fly across his features in a matter of seconds.

"Of course, hon," he croons, the usual exuberance in his voice somewhat subdued. "Anything for you. And him. A fresh batch of ingredients is coming in soon, so I'll have everything ready by this evening. When are you planning to start?"

Lenalee considers. "Tomorrow morning?"

"How early?"

 _Three, probably._  "Around five? Maybe six."

Jeryy frowns at her, because years of fawning over her have given him the ability to read Lenalee's mind. "You have to take care of yourself, honey bunch. Make sure you're sleeping well. If you're not, I could make you something —"

"No," Lenalee interrupts hastily, waving her hands. "I'm fine. Thank you, Jeryy."

He gives her one last measured look before nodding and waving her off. 

She returns at around seven in the evening to get started. Jeryy raises an eyebrow at her, watching her over his shoulder like a hawk even as he prepares dinner, because he's Jeryy and he recognizes exactly what she's doing, but says nothing. When she sneaks into the kitchen at around half past three in the morning and finds the door unlocked, she breathes a sigh of relief and thanks him from the bottom of her heart.

Jeryy worries nearly as much as Komui does, but he isn't as stifling as her brother can sometimes be. He knows, even if he doesn't understand, that she needs this. 

She's shamefully out of practice; the last time she made this she was — fourteen? Fifteen? Daisya and Kanda were getting on each other's nerves, as usual, and since Marie wasn't there it fell upon Lenalee's shoulders to play peacekeeper. She decided on food, that time. 

It takes her over three hours. The finishing product is... definitely below Jeryy's standards. Lenalee can see it now: Jeryy grabbing her shoulders and towing her to the kitchen with gentle hands so she can watch him,  _carefully this time_. Allen wouldn't care because his stomach is practically reinforced with steel. Lavi would take one spoonful and then slip out using Bookman as an excuse, but he wouldn't be anywhere near as smooth about it as he thinks he is. Daisya would wrinkle his nose and mercilessly poke fun at her, because _really, Lena, how have you actually gotten worse at this_ , but he'd gulp it all down anyway. 

Lenalee takes the bowl and a spoon and sneaks out before people start flooding in for breakfast, eyes drooping even as she continues moving, one foot after the other. She's more than halfway to her destination before it hits her that she has absolutely no idea what she's going to do with this. Just leave it at his door like some kind of offering? That seems like a bit of a waste. Daisya isn't going to be there to eat her horrible soup. 

Daisya isn't here anymore. 

Many people have died. She doesn't have time to mourn them all. As Allen would say:

_Keep walking. Don't stop._

She speeds up, putting conscious effort into it now as her lungs start to burn and she chokes on air,  _left right left right left right_ , and in a blink and a half she's standing in front of his room. They're moving soon, to a new home, and no one's going to reserve a room for Daisya there. 

She doesn't know how much time she wastes gazing at a door with a bowl of cold soup in her arms like some idiot, before she hears quiet footsteps approach and come to a halt beside her. 

"What are you doing?" Kanda asks. He's empty-handed today, too; Mugen isn't fixed yet.

Lenalee tears her eyes from the door, trying to blink away any visible evidence of exhaustion. "I — I made shark fin soup," she says, wincing at the way her words echo clumsily against the morning silence. Her throat is dry, her voice is hoarse, and her tongue feels too big for her mouth.

 _Convincing, Lenalee_ , she thinks reproachfully.

Kanda either ignores it or isn't paying attention. His head tilts toward Daisya's room, and she knows he understands. Something flickers in his eyes and then away, quicker than lightning. The corners of his mouth shift downwards almost unnoticeably and his shoulders and jaw momentarily tense. 

He was on a mission with him, looking for General Tiedoll, when it happened. Lenalee can't pretend to grasp how Kanda feels, but she'd like to think it isn't anywhere near as muted as he wants people to believe. 

His eyes shut briefly, and there's a certain significance — a feeling of finality to that small action that pauses Lenalee's breath for just an instant. 

When he opens his eyes again he looks back at her, and then nods to the bowl. "You gonna eat that?"

Lenalee's eyebrows rise. "You want it?"

"I was heading to the dining hall anyway."  _This way I get to avoid people_ is what she infers from that sentence.

A smile pulls a little at her mouth as she holds out the bowl and spoon to him. He takes the spoon and she uses her free hand to open the lid. He takes one sip and grimaces.

"Tastes like shit," he says.

Lenalee has time to narrow her eyes dangerously and mutter "Jerk" before he snatches the bowl from her and walks off to his room. 

Daisya would be furious; he was almost as protective over his food as Allen is.

She waits until Kanda turns the corner to laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -these chapter titles just get worse and worse, no one should ever let me name their children
> 
> -i'm sorry daisya i know next to nothing about you but your wiki page says you like eating shark so i'm sticking with that
> 
> -i know fuck all about cooking and making shark fin soup but the first recipe i clicked on says you gotta soak the fin for like eight hours before you even do anything?? which is why she's starting at like seven


	14. in which strength is in the eye of the beholder, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol remember when i said this would be in roughly chronological order. yeah um oop

 

 _Fuck fuck fuck_ , Kanda chants as he whirls around to find Lena being sucked into some akuma wormhole. His legs, moving before his brain just as he's trained them to, carry him across the distance between where he was sitting to where she disappeared in less than a heartbeat. He dives through the doorway right on the new guy's heels.

It quickly becomes apparent that if they don't get out of the Ark they're going to be completely and utterly fucked. In hindsight, jumping in here without so much as a passing cautionary thought was stupid —  _really_ fucking stupid — but he'll be damned if he lets that get in the way of their getting out of here, and that's more than a good enough reason for him to volunteer to stay behind in the first room.

Plus he hates leaving unfinished business.

"Promise me you'll follow us," Lena demands. He reluctantly agrees; even without her Innocence she bears a certain uncompromising air about her, and she's one of the three people he actually has qualms about antagonizing.

 _Then don't give up either_ , he almost shouts after her in reply. 

He doesn't bother. 

 

 

Lenalee rolls her foot, watching the way the light dances over the red ring encircling her ankle. The scars still sting. Reever said the crosses are like unhealing wounds; they'll never close so the pain will never stop. 

Komui grew a little paler at that.  

They haven't talked. Lenalee and Komui.

How could she have — said that — to him? How could she have thought that everything would be alright as long as she put her life on the line? She's spent nearly seven years with the possibility that not every _I'm off_ will be followed by an  _I'm home_. Death has been a constant unwanted companion, an ever-present thorn in the back of her mind. Someone who was there yesterday may not be there today.

She's had to live with and accept that she is not exempt from this rule from the moment she first saw a fellow exorcist — a _friend_  — disintegrate and scatter in the wind in front of her from akuma poison. No amount of perseverance and screaming and denial can undo death.

It isn't hard to guess why she stopped trying to become friends with Finders years ago. 

If — if one day she's going to turn to dust like she was never even there, she'll use what time she has to protect what she cherishes with all of her might. Whatever the cost. If she can't go back in time and wish this all away, she'll just have to change the future. That will be the mark she leaves.

No amount of denial can outwit death, so Lenalee decided to make a deal with him instead:  _I'll let you swallow me whole as long as you don't touch my family._

She has been resolved to that for years.

She _was_  resolved to that.

But death isn't good enough. Death won't give her what she wants, because she doesn't want to die. She's barely seventeen years old. She wants a life unfettered by heavy boots. She wants to be able to live with her friends without the shadow of pain and violence stalking them wherever they go. Johnny told her once that she'd make a great mom; she thinks so, too.

What use is fighting for the future of the people you love if you forget to make a place for yourself in that future with them? Just as Komui is the biggest piece of her world, she is the biggest piece of his.

If she could take it back she would. She wasn't thinking. She didn't consider the consequences.

She didn't think it would hurt him so much.

_Stupid, selfish, weak._

She still hasn't apologized. But Komui is busy, and sitting in his office waiting for him to come back isn't going to do anyone any good. Head Nurse would be livid to find out she isn't resting.

Lenalee gingerly touches her toes to the ground, putting some pressure on the balls of her feet before pushing off the couch to stand. She winces as a sharp sting lances through her ankles. It seems that she still isn't accustomed to the pain outside of battle, without the adrenaline singing through her blood to distract her from it. 

She huffs a breath and bites her bottom lip, determined not to let such a minor thing slow her down, and starts walking. Her feet don't stop until the pain recedes to a dull ache, like muscle pain that she's slowly starting to ignore. 

A smile comes softly to her face as she finally stops in front of a certain training room. She pushes the door open without knocking.

As always, Kanda is alone. He cracks an eye open at her entrance and heaves a long-suffering sigh, all the while remaining sitting on the floor.

"What," he demands sourly.

Lenalee drops to the floor beside him, mimicking his position before answering. "I thought you were supposed to be in the infirmary. Or are you playing hooky again? Head Nurse is going to kill you."

Kanda narrows his eyes at her, looking as menacing as ever, and she can't find the strength to do it back. 

"Just thought I'd come meditate with you."

He isn't fooled; he never is, when it comes to her. His gaze moves down to her ankles. "It's Komui this time, huh."

Lenalee flinches.

He sighs again as his eyes turn forward. Lenalee is tempted to remind him that every one of those takes an hour off his lifespan, or however it's supposed to go, just to annoy him, when he starts talking again. 

"I was right, wasn't I."

"...About what?" Lenalee asks slowly, already preparing a rebuttal.

"About what I said last time."

Lenalee furrows her brow as Kanda shuts his eyes and lapses back into silence. As usual, he doesn't ask or say anything else.

Last time...? Last time she saw him, as he nodded to her in the hallway adjacent to the dining room? Last time she was here?

Last time she was here.

_I think you're strong._

Kanda doesn't lie.

Lenalee blinks the moisture from her eyes and grins as she settles into her own meditation. She came this far; she still has time to make it right.

 


	15. in which there is thankfully minimal hair pulling

 

Kanda tries to keep the scowl on his face, he really does, but the feeling of Lena's comb as it works through the knots and tangles in his hair is really _fucking_ soothing. It's distracting, too — he was meditating, or trying to, when Lena peeked in and now he can't find the will to tell her to stop.

"I can't believe you just use soap," she mutters, her tone a complete one-eighty from the gentleness in her fingers. "This hair is wasted on you."

Kanda mumbles something unintelligible and Lena snorts. "Oh, come on, it wouldn't hurt you to indulge me. I miss having hair to brush. And this comb — this beautiful comb you and Daisya gave me — should be used.  _Deserves_ to be used."

Kanda clicks his tongue. "So that's what I am. Your hair replacement."

Lena giggles but doesn't deny it. Damn her.

A comfortable silence settles over them as she continues to carefully card her fingers through his hair, broken only by Lena's soft humming. Kanda recognizes it as one of the lullabies Komui used to sing to her, and then built robots to sing to her for him, the freak. His eyes slip shut as if on reflex and his mind begins to float into a gradual trance.

The peace only lasts until Lavi barges in, the hinges creaking as he unceremoniously shoves the door open, and loudly shouts, "Hey, Yuu, have you seen —"

His one eye widens dramatically as he takes in the scene before him. He freezes, Kanda freezes, Lena's hand freezes. 

Lavi snorts, turns around, and skips out while giggling into his hands.

Kanda's hand immediately shoots toward Mugen, laying in front of him. Lena stops him just as he starts to get to his feet and his fingers close around the sheath by tugging at a fistful of hair.

"Stay," she orders.

He snarls and reluctantly sits back down. Lavi's been with them for nearly three years now; loathe as Kanda is to admit it, he's seen worse.

Right. Worse. 

And then he hears the one-eyed — soon to be blind if Kanda has anything to say about it — shithead holler joyously down the hall, "Hey, Allen, guess what I just saw!" and that's it, that's  _fucking it_  —

Lena sighs and releases him as he bolts out of the room with a demonic glow in his eyes, Mugen in hand and targets in sight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -yeah, this is. short. sorry
> 
> -just a lighthearted chapter before canon kicks in and everything goes to shit lmao


	16. in which friends don't let friends sulk, even if that means pissing them off instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, because school sucks and canon is *vague hand gestures*

 

God doesn't give her time to breathe. She doesn't even have time to wish that this wasn't happening. 

A week after Allen's departure, Komui, Bak, Reever, and Epstain sit the exorcists down to give them the rundown of the Second Exorcist Project, and relay to them the events that transpired as a result in North America. Enough extra chairs are brought in to seat everyone, as if they anticipate that they'll need support for what they're about to hear. Lenalee almost finds it funny.

Miranda, Krory, Chaozii, and Timothy look like they want to throw up by the end, and Lenalee doesn't blame them. She has half a mind to think that Chaozii and Timothy shouldn't even be here. The former only got out of the infirmary this morning and the latter is  _nine_.

The number of creases lining General Tiedoll's face have increased again. The skin around his eyes is slightly puffed up. His shoulders are hunched over in a way that speaks of the kind of resignation that makes Lenalee think he's had an inkling of this for a long time, and the kind of anger that threatens a physical reaction at the first provocative word. General Socalo makes some insensitive comment, as always, and the dirty look General Nine shoots in his direction ("For once in your life, Winters," she snaps, "shut the hell up.") is likely the only thing that keeps Tiedoll from punching his lights out.

Marie is the first to ask the question on everyone's mind and Komui is the first to reply. The latter tells them about the rust forming over Mugen, about what Master Zu thinks it means. Bak informs them of what Lenalee's suspected for years. Kanda's techniques and regeneration draw — drew — power from his own life. 

He went as far as using Fifth Illusion.

In other words: assuming he's alive, he doesn't have much time left.

Someone — Miranda, most likely — muffles a noise of distress into their hands. 

Komui keeps his voice carefully steady, strictly professional, throughout his explanations, and Lenalee thinks of an acrobat tiptoeing his way precariously across a tightrope. It disturbed her, the first time she heard her brother speak like that. Komui always wears his heart on his sleeve. Even after she grew old enough to see and understand the mask, it felt wrong.

War is an amazing thing; it touches you, eats away everything you love about yourself and others, and warps you into something grotesque and unrecognizable and spits you back out. 

 _Have a nice life_ , it cheers as it waves you off.  _Remember to squeeze out every drop of happiness and humanity out of you before you let yourself wither and die._

She imagines that the Order knows a little something about that. 

It makes sense, suddenly. Why Kanda looked at the world as if the very sight of it made him want to gouge his own eyes out. Why Lenalee felt drawn to him, felt that even if he shoved everyone else away he would have still let her stay, albeit reluctantly, all those years ago. 

She wonders if she ever reminded him of Alma. What was he like? Was he smart and witty? Was he loud or quiet? Did he scowl like Kanda always did? Was he cheerful? Was he kind? What was Kanda like when he was with him? Despite Lenalee's best efforts she can't imagine a happy, grinning Kanda, even as a child. She knew him as a child and he was definitely not that.

What kind of personality does it take to make Kanda smile? To make him laugh? Bak, being the closest to the project despite not being a part of it, didn't spare many words about their relationship. He said they were friends, and then moved on before his face could crumple any further. 

How much pain must Alma have been feeling, then, for him to willingly attempt to kill the person he was trying so desperately to save just moments before? To kill his only friend?

And what about Kanda? Did he see red every time he looked at Mugen, every time he swung his weapon and was splattered in akuma oil? Lenalee can't begin to guess how long it must have taken for Alma's regeneration to finally crawl to a stop, or imagine how much blood there must have been. She thinks of one time she saw Kanda returning from a mission dragging behind him a coat smeared with crimson. Recalls thinking that it was odd that he headed straight for the baths even though it was noon and none of the gunk was on his skin.

Lenalee will never know, will never know this boy that Kanda loved, and that cuts deeper than she could have ever thought it would for a complete stranger. 

If she had — had said something, had asked him about the nightmares, even if it enraged him — would that have made it better, somehow, for him? Or was there nothing she could have done, like there's nothing she can do now? The rest of the conversation — flaring into an argument, now, judging by the participants' tones — drifts ahead and leaves her behind in a useless fog. Her gaze fixes on the floor, on the tiles, on the sparkling rings around her ankles. Hot tears roll unhindered down her cheeks and blur her vision. Exhaustion seeps into her bones like viscous tar and builds a home there, dragging her to the ground, and she can't fight it.

"It couldn't be helped," someone says.

The fog lifts. Just slightly. Lenalee's chin rises from her chest. 

"It couldn't be helped." Epstain whispers it this time, now that she has everyone's undivided attention. Her shoulders are nearly perfectly squared, and her hands are closed into fists — one twisted into her lab coat on her lap, the other over her heart. "Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe what we did was horrific and unforgivable — but no one can deny that Yuu was _strong_. He's the only one who's ever defeated a Noah!" Her words gradually grow louder, as if the volume of what is spoken correlates directly with how true it is. "We're fighting a war. We can't — sacrifices are — unavoidable."

Marie — kind, gentle Marie — clenches his hands and gnashes his teeth like he's trying to smother a beast before it can escape. Tiedoll's rage and composure fade like the illusions they were as he raises his hands to his eyes and chokes on his own breath. Socalo whistles, and Bak deflates and sags in his seat. Komui visibly stumbles over the tightrope, crumbling as he goes. 

"What happened in North America was — it wasn't our fault. If it weren't for the Millennium Earl the Third Exorcist Project would have been a success, and Yuu wouldn't have —"

Lenalee stands up. The fabric of her skirt brushes softly against Marie's arm with the movement.

_It couldn't be helped._

All eyes turn to her and she ignores them like she ignores the tempest thundering in her ears, in her head and her heart and her blood. Something she doesn't want to put a name to snaps and her entire body quakes with it, burning and freezing at the same time.

_The artificial apostles were created to be sacrifices._

She wants to tell Epstain to stop calling him that — he always hated his first name. After hearing it uttered from that woman's mouth Lenalee can sort of see why.

But no. No, that's not what she wants to say.

_They were not human. They were not permitted to be human._

After moving Headquarters Lenalee hesitantly asked Kanda, for future reference, how he'd killed Skinn Bolic. There was never any doubt that Kanda was stronger than most, but to succeed where even General Yeegar had failed — she thought he was amazing. 

_They were immortal soldiers. Weapons._

Noah are human, Kanda stated simply. Humans die.

The look on his face as he said it raised a question mark. Lenalee couldn't put her finger on it, so she chalked it up to Kanda being his usual grumpy self.

_It was all for the Holy War._

The fog clears. She blinks. She sees red, blinding and painfully sharp.

_It couldn't be helped._

Kanda's suffering couldn't be helped. Alma's suffering couldn't be helped.

Lenalee digs her fingernails into her palms and looks Renny Epstain in the eyes and she abhors her with such intensity she feels she might just go insane from it. She hates every righteous ideal this woman stands for, she hates her for being one of the monsters in a long line of monsters who has yet again ripped a piece of her heart out of her chest, and most of all she hates that she could do something like this, something so heartless and hideous and cruel when it's clear as day to anyone with eyes and ears that she, too, cared about Kanda and Alma. That what happened in Asia and North America still haunts her to such an extent that she has unconsciously fallen back to using only Kanda's first name despite being in a professional setting. 

Lenalee knows she's being unfair. Epstain is human, and humans commit the greatest mistakes in the name of and in spite of love and righteousness.

But that doesn't matter; she has never wanted to hurt anyone as much as she wants to hurt this woman in this moment, so,

" _Fuck_ you," she spits.

The older woman recoils from her like she's just seen a ghost. Savage pleasure rolls over Lenalee in waves. 

"It must be nice, to be able to sit there and feel sorry for yourself," she continues, her voice dropping into a low, deliberate growl.

"Lenalee."

Her mouth twists as the words drip from her tongue like acid. "It must be nice, always having someone else take the fall for something you did. Who's next on your list? Nobody else in this room is as sturdy as Kanda." 

"Lenalee!" Komui's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands.

She meets his eyes, unfazed except for the tears she refuses to wipe away. For the first time in her life her brother's disappointment is next to inconsequential to her. He'll have to throw her in jail like they did to Allen before they pry an apology out of her.

Her heels clack firmly against the floor as she turns and walks hurriedly away. She tears the door open and slams it closed behind her with a force that Kanda would have smirked at — would have been proud of — and prays to a god she loathes with every fibre of her being that she doesn't run into anyone who would care enough to stop her and ask what's wrong. 

And the thing is: they won't change. Central doesn't care about Kanda. Central doesn't give a shit that what they did was all manners of messed up — it only matters to them because their pet project combusted in their faces and singed their expensive robes.

Rob, Cache and Jiji turn the corner and Lenalee jumps out the nearest window before they call out to her. She runs for hours, focuses only on the wind mercilessly pelting her skin and whipping her hair. The crescent moon rises sometime before dawn. Her boots gleam a brilliant shade of scarlet in the moonlight as she soars and leaps and flies, higher and higher into the sky, till the tips of her hair and even her eyelashes begin to crystallize with frozen moisture. The droplets of ice glimmer like tears. 

She hovers, does nothing but gaze far into the distance, her eyes sweeping over verdant trees and shimmering water. The glowing crescent reflected on the surface of the lake brings back memories of an unpleasant dream. The world is bathed in silver light, and Lenalee hates that she finds it beautiful. It washed away the red in her vision, too, a long time ago.

Something in her throat quietly collapses and, finally, the rest of her follows suit. She screams and she wails until every ugly feeling stuck inside her no longer has a voice. 

She doesn't know how much more time passes before she finally closes her eyes, allows herself to tilt over and fall back down to earth. 

Making as little noise as possible, she encloses herself in the darkness of her room, leans over the vanity, pushes her hair back. The mirror greets her with her own hollow eyes and hollow mouth as the last wisps of every violent, destructive thought slips through her fingers like water.

Fury can be invigorating while it lasts, but grief is inevitable. Grief is heavier than the Innocence clinging to her legs.

Kanda has been her rock since she was eight. And now, with Lavi and Bookman and Allen gone, too, she feels eight all over again. She crawls under her covers and cries herself to sleep.

She wants to think he's content now. This is what he must have wanted — to sever the noose, to be permanently separated from the people who wouldn't release him even after death. Even if she never sees him again, he's free, and that's what matters. She whispers it to herself, along with a litany of other hopes and prayers, every time the sun rises and every time it sets for weeks on end. 

Her friends give her the distance she needs despite their worry for her, and she's grateful for that. One afternoon she walks past Marie plucking a familiar lullaby on his strings, and from there she finds herself spending more and more free time with him, taking comfort in melodies from a lifetime ago. 

They don't talk. Lenalee is content to read or meditate or simply close her eyes and hum along, and Marie never forces her to do anything else. She's thankful for that, too; she doesn't know if she's ready to talk about Kanda like he's only a memory, yet. She doesn't know if she'll ever be. 

She should be happy for him.

This is what he wanted.

But then he comes back.

He _comes back_ , and when he appears in her periphery, even in clothing she's never laid eyes on in her life, she recognizes him instantly. Her concern for his wellbeing is the only thing that enables her to clamp down on the elation fluttering in her stomach and her chest, because he's _here,_  breathing, tangible, and it takes every ounce of restraint she has to not scream at him,  _why why why_ , why would he come back, to be willingly tethered to a place that tortured him, dehumanized him, stripped him of his death, his self and the one he loved. It takes every single flashing siren and screeching alarm to not reach out to poke and prod at him to check for injuries, or tug at his hair, or pinch his cheek and stretch his face, or hold onto him and not let go, just to make sure she isn't hallucinating.

As it turns out, his wellbeing isn't much worth worrying over — something she discovers when he drinks his liquefied Innocence out of her hands. She punches him for it later,  _hard —_ because really, what the _hell is he thinking_  — before realizing that he probably did it for her benefit. He hates it when she cries.

He inquires about Allen again and she eventually gets around to bringing up Johnny. His eyes light up faintly at that. He asks for details and she and Marie explain.

"Hm," he says, contemplative. "When's he leaving?"

And that's when all the pieces finally come together. She can predict almost exactly what he'll say if she asks him why he came back to this hellhole: He hates leaving unfinished business. He hates leaving unpaid debts — especially to _the fucking beansprout_ , of all people. The Order may have crafted a chain around his neck years before his birth, the Noah may have danced with his strings for their own gain, he may have absolutely no recollection of doing it because he was justifiably _insane_ _with grief_ , but it was his hand on Mugen and it was Mugen that found its way into Allen's gut. 

Lenalee wouldn't have thought it was possible to feel such a diverse cacophony of feelings for a single person all at once. As they accompany him to get a new uniform she alternates dizzyingly between outrage, disbelief, joy, sadness, dread, relief, and fierce, beaming pride.

To think that the day would come when Kanda Yuu, of all people, would in such an overt, flashy manner risk his life, his pride, and his freedom, all for the sake of the boy he claims to hate.

But then he walks out of the washroom, clothed once again in exorcist black, and Lenalee remembers that blood-soaked coat. She remembers what will happen if he goes too far, and that it could happen far too soon. It could happen in a place far outside of her reach. 

She can't stop him, though, and even as fear gnaws at her stomach and turns her fingertips numb she doesn't want to — both Allen and Kanda need this, and if letting Kanda go while covering his tracks is what Lenalee can do, she'll do it no matter how much it costs her. Before he sneaks away to go after Johnny, though, she settles for pulling him down to her and wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as she can. 

He sighs, pats the area between her shoulder blades with the hand not holding Mugen twice.

"Hang in there," he says gruffly to her when she lets go. 

For the first time in months, Lenalee's answering smile is genuine. "I will," she promises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i think i've edited/rewritten this chapter more than the rest of this entire fic combined
> 
> -i feel bad for renny
> 
> -i love writing angry lena. but. *lies down* i feel like this might be too ooc 
> 
> -but on a lighter note who says kanda doesn't have a sense of humour aaaayyyyyyy ;)
> 
> -anyway
> 
> -to everyone who's still reading: lol why
> 
> -just kidding
> 
> -THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME THIS FAR
> 
> -really, thanks :')


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